


as i watch the stars fall

by orphan_account



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 5.3 spoilers, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Gen, Im here for the practice and lulz, Multi, Multi-Classed Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Tumblr: FFXIVwrite2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26262916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Compilation of ffxiv write 2020matter of fact - A love letter
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light/Y'shtola Rhul
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9
Collections: Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched Bookclub FFXIV-Writes 2020 Collection





	1. table of contents

ffxiv 2020 prompts

crux - gen; major character death

sway - graha/wol/yshtola; t, 5.3 Spoilers

muster - gen

clinch - gen

matter of fact - f/m 


	2. crux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> welcome to your execution day.
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I'm just here for the practice

The Eorzean Alliance arrives at their decision. 

The Warrior of Light and Darkness becomes the tallest beacon of hope on the known lands of Hydaelyn with each notch on that belt and the longer your title got. At the peak of your power, you have turned the tides of wars, liberated nations, reunited others, dismantled empires. You have crossed the rift to save the star from a calamity nobody else would have seen coming - all under your belt. You were once  **_whole_ ** . 

Now, you are _tired,_ powerful but chained and the people who lifted you up have decided you are a threat to peace. From the beginning, you were only given a title - akin to a weaponsmith naming a freshly forged sword. They tossed you and expected from you more than you thought capable because of the Echo. 

The cold wind bites at your cheeks. 

You stare at the expansive abyss outside Ishgard and there is no bottom. You look back at the committee that has decided your fate and people behind them. As if all of Ishgard and half of each city-state have come to watch your execution. 

You stand at your final steps. Before, you would have devised a way to get yourself out of this. Fought, Talked, Magicked. Anything. For once, you’d like to rest - on your own time, but they’d deny you even that. 

Your last thought before you plunge is, how will they keep the peace now when they couldn’t before? 

What you don’t realize is that they would never be done with you. Before you lose consciousness from your fall, each member in the audience holds a crystal in their hand. With it, they pray to keep the Warrior of Light as their savior for time eternal. 

You are made the essence of peace - Primal of Light, Crux.


	3. sway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> graha/wol/yshtola
> 
> The Warrior of Light wants a livelier evening in the Rising Stones.

It is well into the night in the Rising Stone; it’s occupants long gone, except for three Miqo’te sunseekers. 

Earlier, the Warrior catches Y’shtola as she’s about to depart, stalling her to talk about conjuring and the differences between it and what’s known on the Source as Mhach magic. Y’shtola does not disappoint; she gives half a lecture on the differences and similarities as if she was prepared for the question were the question ever to be sprung so suddenly as it had. 

When the conversation shifts naturally, she beckons G’raha to stay, knowing in her heart that never would’ve been difficult. The Warrior delights in how much livelier he looks in comparison to when he first joined the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. In this regard, slumber had the opposite effect on him - or perhaps his old soul is reconciling with his youthful body. 

The Warrior mentions that spending time with members that come from the same background as her helps after everything that happened on the First. To the Warrior, it was one of the more strenuous adventures not just physically or aetherically, but emotionally. She keeps her knowledge of the Convocation a secret and distracts the two with a skip to the fully stocked bar maintained by the Stones.

Have some on me. The Warrior beams. 

Y’shtola waves her hands in front of her: No, I think not, she replies, while G’raha already has his lips on the mug. 

I haven’t had any drink in a long time, he says. 

The Warrior’s ears wiggle. In how long? 

Somewhere between a few years and a couple hundred years. He grins and the Warrior laughs into her cup. 

“If the Crystal Tower can absorb millenia old Ascians, could the tower metabolize alcohol?” 

“No,” Y’shtola says matter-of-factly at the same time G’raha replies: “I daresay, you could conduct an experiment if you go back to the First.” 

Y’shtola looks at him scandalized. The Warrior feigns a surprised gasp. 

“I don’t think the people of the Crystarium would like their Exarch vandalized so.” 

He shrugs. “You have this permission.” 

“Mm.” The Warrior puts her cup down to refill two and a half tankard. “But one thing to have pleasantly come back with me from the first - besides G’raha and you all, of course - is dancing!” She swings around the bar and grabs G’raha wrist. “Dance with me, Raha.” 

He puts the mug down before it can spill. “But I’m not well versed in - oh, you mean with chakrams.” He takes them from her hands. 

“I need good practice, do you think you’re up for it?” 

“I believe I can hold my own, having watched you in battle before.” 

The Warrior winks. They outline the open space. The chakrams clash to create the colors of flowers and feathers.

Y’shtola puts an empty cup as if she’s had it this whole time. “ And here I thought you weren’t one for flourish.” 

Ignoring her cheek, the Warrior says, “So you  _ can _ see them.” 

“Only when they clash and when you two move, but not the weapons themselves.” 

“Hah!” the Warrior exclaims with a determined grin. The pair move in closer and closer still, until they are no longing clashing but with weapons in hand and earnestly moving in rhythm to a tune only they are privy to. She sways in front of him and his hands hover over her hips as if he’s scared to touch her. Or shy. She looks over her shoulder and his eyes look at her half-lidded, his cheeks red from the exertion. 

Y’shtola hums knowingly. “Mmm, I may not know much about dancing, but I can assume it requires more movement.”

The Warrior sashays away without missing another beat, impish smirk on her lips. 

“Would you like to learn, Shtola?”

“If her pattern is consistent, she’s on track to learn something new in less then a year.” 

Y’shtola bristles. “Some of us don’t have the gift to utilize the soul crystals as the Warrior does, firstly. Secondly, I also didn’t have  _ hundreds _ of years to learn and be idle - only to drag the wrong target  _ five - different - times.”  _

G’raha flinches with each enunciation of the words, but he coyly scratches the back of his head. “I never thought it would be a perfect art, but ‘tis different from learning the beat of a rhythm.” 

She shakes her head. “No, Warrior, I do not think this is for me.” 

The Warrior of Light sighs, her shoulders slumping dramatically. “Shtola, this is unlike you. You’re giving up before giving it a honest try.” 

Y’shtola purses her lips and settles on a frown. “Tis one thing to have a target and use my aether to conjure magics and quite another to throw an aetherless chakram and expect it back into my hands.” 

She moves closer. “Then imbue it with aether, your aether. You noticed my weapons, it’s not any different. Here-” She places the chakrams in Y’shtola’s hand. She does not protest. Soon, warmth begins to emanate to the weapon and while it’s a temporary effect, her suggestion works by the way Y’shtola’s head tilts - as if she didn’t expect it. 

Just like she didn’t expect their faces to be so close. 

For the first time, the Warrior hears Y’shtola stumble with her words and puts her out of her misery with a small press to her lips with the Warrior’s own. 

Behind her, she can almost feel the disappointment where G’raha Tia stands filling the room like an aura and he clears his throat. “I’ll-I’ll be heading out” 

“No!” The Warrior twirls and in one swift stride, she grabs G’raha’s face and melds her lips with his. She pulls his wrist back to where Y’shtola still sits shell-shocked. She takes her wrist in the other. 

“I want you both.”

  
  
  



	4. muster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Warrior contemplates before the comatose Scions.

I’ve been asked before “What’s been the scariest moment of your adventures?” 

It’s usually the exciting answers they want: defeating the dreadwyrm Nidhogg or traversing the World of Darkness or going into the depths of the Palace of the Dead and re-meeting the souls I’ve slain. 

But that’s just it. 

The battles themselves aren’t the “scary” part, it’s what hinges on the battles that frightens the fuck out of me. The price I had to pay to move forward with slay Nidhogg while preserving Estinien. The consequence an entire shard had to pay forevermore in darkness. And those I’ve killed? Meeting them again and remembering that it was either them or myself and having to carry with that every single day. 

Today…

Today is the day I feel the most vulnerable and weak and defeated despite winning not just one but two nations’ liberation. 

I look to Alisae, Aliphinaud, Y’shtola, Urianger, and Thancred, all of them comatose in the beds within the Rising Stones. I imagine them looking at me, disappointed and shaking their heads. “Why haven’t you figured out what’s happened to us yet?” Thancred says in low tones. 

“She hasn’t figured it out yet,” Alphinaud says.

“Can’t. She can’t.” I’m sorry. Y’shtola. I’m only one-

“You said we wouldn’t leave each other.” Alisae, please. “That you wouldn’t abandon me.” 

Please. I’m scared. 

Urianger, usually verbose, says nothing cross-armed. 

In all honesty, I would have preferred the berating compared to the silence mocking me. The shell of my friends like souvenirs of my inner defeat, my failure. 

I, the Warrior of Light, can save nations, stop wars, slay Primals and Ascians, but ask me to save my friends and that’s where I fall short. 

I bend forward in the chair I’m sitting. My chest starts feeling tight and I force myself to breathe. The world is collapsing around me. The room won’t stop spinning. My vision is dimming. I hold myself. Rocking in the chair. Trying to stop the crumbling like a pastry. 

Suddenly, the door opens. Tataru says my name. “We’ve received news from NOAH.’ She finds me sitting pensively on the chair. 

“Oh good,” I say nonchalantly, but smile at Tataru when she hands over the missive. “I’m confident it’ll be one step closer to getting everyone back.” 

The scariest part? 

I don’t know when I’ll stop mustering the courage to go on. 


	5. clinch

Tataru Taru

Business clincher extraordinaire

Why’d you buy that sword?


	6. matter of fact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sweet love letter

To the shine of my stars, 

Forgive me, if this seems untoward, but I could not go any longer for the ache inside me was too much to bear. Let me preface this with, I tried. I tried to contain it - for who am I compared to you? I would see you sprint around the decks of Limsa and my body would pulse and almost levitate at the sight of you. You would tell stories of primals and far off lands I’ve never heard of. And again - who am I compared to you? A Roegadyn living in Limsa - how typical, how quaint. Despite my stature, I am small next to you.

While you - you are beauty incarnate, an adventurer that has found a path into my heart, with courage and strength enough for an entire legion. How can we even compare? But if you accept me - I will leap and yell from every corner in Limsa Lominsa, shout until my throat is raw that your perfection is a matter of fact and not opinion for it is the one truth I know. I would worship the earth you walk upon with measured steps. Crown you the queen of my soul.

If you’ll have me _, Brayflox Alltalks_ , there would be nothing else I would want, my world would be complete - for no one compares to you.

All of my courage has been poured into this letter. I await your response whether it brings happiness or heartbreak. 

Forever yours, 

Skaengybet

  
  



End file.
